Harry Potter-Black
by shopaholic1369
Summary: After his parents were murdered that fateful Halloween night, Harry was raised by Sirius. Harry grew up with knowledge of the prophecy, and trained knowing that one day Voldemort would return to threaten everyone and everything he cared about. Little did he know that Voldemort wasn't the only one he needed to worry about. All 7 years. powerful/smart/elemental Harry.


Key for the story:

**parseltongue**

_letters/writing/'thoughts'_

**xxxxxxxxxx** change of POV during same time

**WARNING AN:**

**-This story will have many plots, and I'm afraid everything is important to the story. A heads up, because in the past I've received PM's asking about a story when their question would be answered if they were to read the whole story.**

**-There is NO Philosopher's Stone in this story. It does exist, but it has no bearing on this story.**

**I know that I've posted most of this chapter before but it had been deleted. This time THAT WILL NOT happen. ENJOY :)**

**REVIEW :) Any questions, leave them in a review and I will be happy to answer!**

* * *

Harry Potter-Black's eyes flew open while a hiss escaped his lips. "Ow!" Emerald eyes looked for the source of his pain, and soon landed on a large white snowy owl. "What was that for Hedwig?" Hedwig merely hooted in what he knew was amusement and blinked her large amber eyes innocently. Harry rolled his eyes fondly while reaching for the letter tied to her leg. "You've been sent to the twins too many times," he muttered and Hedwig hooted indignantly. He brushed back his messy black hair and looked down at the thick yellowish parchment. A grin spread across his face as he looked down at the large letters printed in shimmering green ink.

_Mr. H. Potter-Black_

_Heir Suite_

_Potter Manor_

_England_

"Finally," Harry breathed, he hurriedly broke the purple wax seal that denoted a large _H_ surrounded by a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake. He had waited for this day for as long as he could remember. He had grown up hearing stories about Hogwarts, it's majestic beauty, sweeping hills, and of course the large regulation sized quidditch pitch. He had been regaled with tales about his parents years at Hogwarts, his godfather sneaking into Hogsmeade, and parties in the Gryffindor common room.

"Uncle Sirius! Uncle Remus!" Harry yelled causing Hedwig to quickly flap into the air. Hedwig glared at Harry, looking eerily human before soaring out of the room. "Sorry Hedwig," Harry called after his owl halfheartedly. He scanned the letter, drinking in every word. He could hear the sound of running footsteps draw nearer as he read the letter for a second time. The footsteps grew louder as his excitement grew, bubbling in his chest like a cauldron over a roaring fire.

"Harry what's wrong?" The worried voice of his godfather asked. Harry looked up and saw Sirius Black, wand drawn. Long wavy black hair framed his handsome face, and light grey eyes darted to all of the windows and doors that lined the walls of the room. He wore red robes, the standard auror uniform, a gold badge glinted on his chest. Next to him stood Remus Lupin, his light brown hair, slightly speckled with grey at the tips, was usually neat and tidy, but currently stood up in the back. Remus' dark green eyes joined Sirius' in scanning the room.

"Nothing is wrong," Harry said as he tried to contain laughter. He hadn't expected them to come into his room, wands at the ready, looking like they hadn't had their morning cups of coffee yet.

"Merlin Harry," Sirius said as he lowered his wand, and ran a hand over his face. "What was all the screaming about then?"

"My Hogwarts letter came," Harry told them. He held his letter up sheepishly.

"It's about bloody time!" Sirius exclaimed. Remus shot Sirius a half-disapproving, half-exasperated look. Harry shook his head, Sirius was always on the receiving end of those sorts of looks from Remus.

"Let's see it then," Sirius said, his happy go lucky demeanor back in full force. Harry handed his letter to his godfather. "Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards," he shook his head. "It seems like every time I turn around Albus has another title," he said cheekily.

Remus rolled his eyes as he grabbed the letter from Sirius. "The books appear to be no different from when we were in school." Sirius snorted, but Remus as per usual ignored it. Harry glanced at his nightstand where a photo of his parents stood. His mum was beautiful, her long red hair flew around her hair in the wind like a red halo, while his father grinned goofily, his arm around her waist. Harry's smile slowly began to slide off his face as his emotions quickly shifted from happiness to uncertainty. "And Harry already has Hedwig, so really we just need to get his books, uniform, and-"

"What's wrong pup?" Sirius asked causing Remus to stop talking mid-sentence. Harry looked at his guardians and internally sighed, he didn't want to talk about it, but he knew they wouldn't give him much of a choice. Sirius and Remus were persistent, especially if they thought that something was wrong. Harry swallowed as he leaned against his black headboard. Sirius and Remus exchanged concerned looks as they sat on the foot of his bed.

Harry looked towards the large glass doors that led to his balcony. He could see the large lake that sat in their backyard, and blooming trees trees in the distance. "I'm happy to be going to Hogwarts, I really am," Harry began. "I've wanted to go to Hogwarts ever since my fifth birthday when you guys told me about your time there. How you learned to be animagi in the Shrieking Shack, created the Marauders Map and pulled pranks on everyone." A smile flickered on his lips as he recalled the stories he had been told about their time at Hogwarts. "You both always talk about how great Hogwarts was, how it was some of the best years of your lives. Everyone tells me how great it is, even Percy manages to make it sound like this amazing place. I've been looking forward to going there for as long as I can remember: meeting new people, getting to spend all of my free time surrounded by my friends, eating in the Great Hall, and playing quidditch. It's just," he looked down at his hands, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. "It's where you two met my mum and dad," Remus and Sirius exchanged knowing looks, "but it's also where you guys met Pettigrew," he spat the name like it was poison. Merely thinking about the man who betrayed his parents to Voldemort filled Harry with anger. He didn't understand how someone like Peter Pettigrew had been sorted into Gryffindor, he was the opposite of everything that house stood for.

"Harry," Remus sighed, Harry looked into his kind eyes that held both understanding and love. "Don't let one person ruin this for you. You're eleven, going to Hogwarts is a right of passage, it will be one of the best times of your life. Sirius, your father, and I had many great times there. It's where the Marauders were born, it's where your parents fell in love, it's where friendships were formed." Remus grabbed Harry's much smaller hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "Your years at Hogwarts will be the most fun, crazy, chaotic, hilarious, and magical ones of your life. The next seven years will be ones you'll never forget."

"I know," Harry told them. "But it's not just that." He ran his hand subconsciously through his short messy black hair. He loved Sirius and Remus, and he knew he could tell them anything, he just didn't want to hurt their feelings. "I love you guys, but I wish that," he stopped mid-sentence.

"You wish your mum and dad were here," Sirius finished for him. Harry nodded as he looked into the eyes of his godfather. Something in his chest tightened when he saw the pain in Sirius' eyes. Harry felt a twinge of guilt, he knew that Sirius blamed himself for the deaths of his parents. Harry thought it was stupid of him, and had told his godfather so on more than one occasion, but it never assuaged Sirius' feelings. He hated to bring those feelings back to the surface for Sirius. He didn't want Sirius to feel bad. He appreciated his godfather and Remus, but a part of him wished his parents could be the ones he was showing his letter too.

"We understand pup," Sirius assured him gently. "We wish that James and Lily were here too. That they could see the smart, amazing person that you've come to be, but they aren't. All you can do is continue to make them proud. And never, ever forget that they'll always live inside of you." Sirius reached forward and touched Harry's chest, right over his heart. Harry nodded as some of the tension left his body. He knew that his parents would want him to be excited about his first year of school. He wouldn't dwell on Pettigrew, instead he would think about making his own memories. He was determined to make the most of his time at Hogwarts, for him and his parents.

Sirius cleared his throat awkwardly. "Now enough of this sort of talk, we have some shopping to do." Sirius gave Harry a conspiratorial grin and stage whispered, "We'll need to buy enough sweets to last you nine months." Remus shot Sirius a disapproving look, but the twitching of his lips said that he didn't really disapprove. Harry couldn't help but to grin back at his godfather, thankful for the change of topic.

"Where are we going to go first?" Harry asked, his countenance one of excitement.

"I had a fire chat with Nicolas last night, he and Perenelle are expecting us in an hour," Sirius said, seemingly proud of himself.

"Brilliant!" Harry grinned, before he scrambled out of his bed towards his closet.

* * *

Harry stepped out of the fireplace and into the laboratory at Flamel Manor. He looked around the overly large room, with its gray stone walls and short ceiling with a look of curiosity. Harry had been coming to Flamel Manor four times a week since he was seven years old. He spent most of his time there in the laboratory, but every time felt like the first time. The contents of the room were in a constant state of change. Odd silver instruments, some small, some large, and some floating seemingly in mid air lined shelves. Some made odd noises, or gave off colorful puffs of smoke that floated through the air like the wind before disappearing without a trace. Dozens of cauldrons bubbled, some black and others made of solid gold.

Glass boxes covered an entire table, weird creatures slithered, climbed, and flew around in them. A particularly ugly green lizard flicked its tongue in and out, while a disgusting slug, the size of a small rat sat motionless inside of a small box all by itself. The only sign that it wasn't dead was the oversized purple eyes that flickered back and forth from left to right. Test tubes and sludge covered measuring tools washed themselves in a round silver sink. Since potions became unpredictable around warming charms there was a slight chill in the room.

"Right on time," a quiet voice spoke from somewhere to Harry's right.

"Nicolas!" Harry greeted more enthusiastically than he had intended.

Nicolas Flamel, a tall, thin man, with short gray hair and lines on his face walked towards Harry. Appearance wise he didn't look any different than any older man, but he was exceedingly powerful, and without a doubt, the smartest man alive. "Someone is in a cheerful mood this morning," Nicolas said jovially, his voice however remained quiet. "Any particular reason why?"

Harry shrugged, trying and failing to appear nonchalant. "I get my wand today."

Nicolas laughed, Perenelle, a kind looking women walked into the room, her smile knowing. Perenelle always wore a kind expression, and her gray hair was always pulled into a low ponytail. Nicolas and his wife Perenelle were over six hundred years old, they had been able to live for centuries due to Nicolas' creation of the Philosopher's Stone. The stone granted them not only the power to turn metals into pure gold, but to live forever, or at least as long as they continued to drink the elixir of life. Nicolas and Perenelle had trained him for years, and before that had been a part of his life. Over time they had become something akin to grandparents to him. When Nicolas begun to train Harry he had become his mentor, teaching Harry everything from charms to beginners alchemy.

"Hello dear," Perenelle said as she swept Harry into a hug, her lithe arms wrapped gently around him. She pulled him away to arms length and surveyed him with a small smile. "Handsome as always." Her voice was even more quiet than her husbands, and there was a delicate quality to it. "You're growing so fast, it seems like just yesterday you were a little boy with messy hair and bright mischievous eyes. Wreaking havoc wherever you went."

"The only difference now is his height," Sirius chimed in, trademark smirk in place. "All of the charms in the world won't tame that messy mop he calls hair." Harry rolled his eyes, Sirius took great pride in his hair and quite frequently commented on Harry's inability to tame his.

"And he still causes havoc, he's just better at not getting caught," Remus told the older woman with an accusatory look towards Sirius.

Sirius put a hand over his heart, and feigned surprise. "Why are you looking at me like that?" Remus snorted and Sirius grinned like a snuffler that found gold. "Someone had to teach him how to behave like a true Marauder."

"Well, as amusing as this is," Nicolas broke into the conversation. "It will take me several hours to finish your wand." Harry's attention immediately focused on Nicolas. "Now do you remember what I've taught you about wandlore?"

"Yes." Harry answered immediately. Wandlore took years to learn and a lifetime to perfect, but Nicolas taught Harry a little about the various woods and core types. He found it fascinating how ordinary wood could be made into something magical.

"Excellent," Nicolas said as he waved his hand. Two long rectangular tables appeared out of nowhere. One had dozens of different lengths and types of wood, and the other had what looked like different potion ingredients. "To my right is every type of wood possible to create a wand from, and to my left are every core that can be safely used. What I want from you is to walk around both tables, it doesn't matter which one first, and tell me which wood, and what core feels right." Harry frowned in confusion.

"What do you mean, which one feels right?" Harry asked, his voice laced with confusion.

"As you know," Nicolas began, "when one goes to Ollivander's or another wand shop upon turning eleven they leave with the wand that chooses them. As the saying goes, the wand chooses the wizard. Witches and wizards find the wand that best suits them by holding wand after wand, until their magic finds the one that blends their magic the best. The better the match, the better able a witch or wizard will come to harness their magic into their wand. However, in order to find a truly perfect match, one must choose the wand and the core separately."

"Right," Harry murmured before looking up, startled he'd spoken out loud. "You told me once, only in passing if I remember correctly, that most people's wands are good matches, but not really perfect."

"Correct," Nicolas smiled. "By choosing your core and wood separately you will find your wand to be a perfect match. Shall we begin?" Without waiting for a response he gestured towards the two tables.

Harry walked towards the table covered in various wand woods, trying not to let his eagerness show. He looked at the various woods, some were almost as white as snow, some as dark as night, and the rest were every shade of brown he thought existed. He could sense everyone watching him but he ignored them as he tried to feel something. His hand hovered over the table as he walked slowly. He walked around the table three times and began to feel frustrated when he continued to feel nothing.

"Be patient," Nicolas' voice broke into his thoughts. Harry looked up and Nicolas nodded encouragingly. He took a deep breath and held his hand out over the table. _'Come on. Feel something.' _He pushed out his magic slightly, something he had learned from Nicolas. Harry's hand stopped in mid air, he looked at the wood under his hand and slowly picked it up. He felt a thrum of magic, a smile spread across his face.

"This one," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

"Hm, rowan, interesting," Nicolas said as he took the wood from Harry's hand. He frowned, he felt empty all of a sudden without the wood in his hand. He looked up at Nicolas who smiled knowingly. "Rowan is associated with wizards and witches who are both clear headed and pure hearted. Excellent duelists frequently have wands made of rowan, and defensive charms are especially powerful when cast by a wand made of this wood. It is also to be said that no dark witch or wizard has ever owned a rowan wand." Harry didn't know what to say to that, but he had always been most interested in defensive spells so it didn't surprise him.

"Seems the perfect choice then," Perenelle said. Sirius beamed the way he always did when someone complimented him.

"Yes, yes," Nicolas murmured in agreement. He gestured towards the second table and Harry made his way over, everyones eyes followed him.

Unlike with the first table, Harry felt an immediate thrum of magic upon walking up to the table. His hand hovered over the table until he felt the thrum again, he looked down in confusion. He pulled his hand away before putting it once more over the table. He turned to Nicolas, his eyebrows crinkled.

"I felt a connection, but there's nothing there," Harry told him. A flash of something Harry couldn't decipher flashed through Nicolas' eyes before he smiled and glanced at his wife. Harry saw the same undecipherable look pass through her eyes before it was replaced by the same kind look she always wore. Harry felt even more confused as he looked back at Nicolas.

"That would be thestral hair," Nicolas told him. Harry blinked, for a moment he thought he had heard wrong. He didn't know wands could be made with thestral hair, that was a hard material to come by and very expensive. He also knew that since thestrals were feared due to their connotations with death that most witches and wizards wouldn't want a wand with that core even if the wand was a perfect match. "I can see what you're thinking lad, no you didn't hear me wrong. I didn't misspeak either."

"Thestral hair?" Remus asked. "I've never heard of a wand being made with that core before."

"I wouldn't think it was possible," Sirius added.

"It's possible," Nicolas told them. "However, to my knowledge it's only happened once before." He looked at the bare wall for a moment, as if in deep thought before seemingly shaking himself out of it. "But that was a long time ago. It doesn't matter now." Harry wanted to ask about it, but before he could Nicolas looked at Sirius who nodded and Harry looked at his godfather curiously. "I need one last ingredient before I can begin creating your wand." He waved his hand and a long, sharp, thin needle appeared. "Your blood." Harry blinked, completely taken aback.

"What?" Harry blurted out. He eyed the needle cautiously, since neither Sirius nor Remus seemed surprised or angry he knew it wasn't for anything bad, but he had no idea what it was for. He had never heard of blood being used in the making of wands before.

"During a wands creation, if the owners blood is infused in the core than only the owner can use the wand. If anyone else tries to use the wand it won't work, it would be as though they were holding an ordinary stick they picked up off of the ground," Nicolas explained. The confusion Harry felt vanished as he nodded his head and held out his hand.

"How come I've never heard of blood being infused into a wand before?" Harry asked, he watched while Nicolas pricked his finger and a spot of red appeared, standing out against his skin.

"Technically it was outlawed by the Ministry of Magic," Sirius answered, surprising Harry both with his reply and the fact that it was him who answered.

"What? Why would the Ministry do that?" Harry asked bemused. "That seems like a very smart thing to do."

"There's your answer right there," Sirius muttered bitterly.

"Sirius!" Remus scolded with a pointed look towards his auror badge. Sirius rolled his eyes.

"You know better than I what the Ministry is like Remus," Sirius told him, his look just as pointed. Remus stiffened and a pained look flashed in his eyes that caused Sirius to flinch almost imperceptibly. Harry knew why Remus reacted as he had, the Ministry was extremely bigoted towards werewolves. And there were currently several laws being debated over in the Wizengamot that would restrict the lives of werewolves even more. As it was, Remus only had a job because he happened to be friends with the owners of Flourish and Blott's. It was a bookstore in Diagon Alley where Remus worked during the week. Although both Harry and Sirius had money and were more than willing to pay his way, the proud man wouldn't hear of it.

Nicolas cleared his throat. "I must adjourn to my private laboratory to create your wand. I will deliver it myself this evening." Harry was thankful for the change of topic.

"Thank you Nicolas," Harry told him sincerely. Harry knew that he was the only person Nicolas had made a wand for besides himself and his wife.

"Of course," Nicolas told him. "However before you leave there are a few facts I must remind you of." Harry looked up into his mentors eyes, Nicolas stared back at him intently. "I know you are aware that every wand is unique, and that every wand takes on a life of its own. A wands character comes from its owners personality as much as the materials its made from. I want you to always remember that your wand will learn from you, and you from it. I know that you are capable of wandless magic, and will become excellent in that art someday. You must be careful with that gift, and focus on your wand for now. You mustn't neglect the use of your wand, and always keep it with you. Do not limit yourself to the expectations of others, whatever you wish can be created through your wand with imagination and determination."

"Thank you," Harry told him once more, he understood the hidden meaning behind his words. Wandless magic was a talent as rare as a phoenix, the only wizards alive that had the gift were Nicolas, Albus Dumbledore, Lord Voldemort, and Harry. He had been surprised the first time he casted a spell consciously and without a wand. He had a crush on his friends mother when he was seven and wanted to give her flowers. He had said the spell he had heard Sirius use to conjure flowers, and on the third time it had worked. Bright yellow and orange flowers seemingly fell out of nowhere. Sirius and Remus had been so shocked they had just stared at him for what had seemed like an eternity. Within the hour he had found himself sitting in front of Albus Dumbledore while scans were being cast to find out his magical capabilities. The ability to perform wandless magic had been the least of the surprises that day.

Harry had found out to the surprise of Dumbledore, Sirius and Remus that he was an elemental. Elementals were exceedingly rare and came in many different kinds. Harry was a fire and water elemental, according to Dumbledore until him it had been an unheard of combination. Being an elemental had sounded cool to Harry until he found out that there were just as many cons as there were pros to the abilities it gave him. After four years of training with Nicolas to control his abilities, he still didn't have full control over them, and he didn't yet know the full scope or limits of them.

"Harry?" Remus asked. Harry shook himself from his memories and looked into the worried faces of Sirius and Remus. He looked around and saw that Nicolas was already gone.

"Sorry," Harry shot them a reassure smile. "Diagon Alley?" He asked as he walked towards the fireplace. Sirius nodded and held out a small gold bowl filled to the brim with silver powder. He stepped into the stone fireplace and grabbed a handful of powder. "Bye Perenelle," he said with a wave of his free hand.

"Goodbye dear," Perenelle said.

Harry threw the powder to the ground and stated clearly, "Diagon Alley."

* * *

Harry looked up at a tall imposing white marble building that towered over the shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold was a goblin. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as Harry, Sirius and Remus walked inside.

Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

Harry's lips twitched as he read the inscription, he had always found the goblin since of wry humor to be funny. Growing up he had been tutored in every subject offered in the wizarding world from common ones such as potions, to rare ones like ancient studies, and even those most wizards didn't bother with such as goblin studies. There wasn't much information on goblins, and the information that was available was utterly biased. However, there were some rare books, usually passed down throughout ones family that spoke about goblin culture. Harry was taught to never underestimate goblins. Although most wizards didn't want to believe it, they had very powerful magic, and weren't to be messed with. It was very hard to gain a goblins respect, but if and when you did, the rewards were endless.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they walked into a vast marble hall. The floor glittered from the light of the myriad of chandeliers that hung from the high ceiling. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, and examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There was a goblin holding a ruby the size of Harry's fist and another placing large emeralds into a velvet pouch. There were dozens of doors leading off the hall, goblins walking in and out of them, some carrying strange looking boxes or pouches.

"Good morning," Sirius said in a language Harry recognized as gobbledygook. Sirius did a lot of business with the goblins and had found it pertinent to learn their language. Harry only knew a handful of words, he found the language extremely difficult to learn.

"Good morning Mr. Black," the goblin replied respectfully.

"Ironsaw," Sirius inclined his head. "I would like to make a withdrawal from my vault, number 977." He pulled out a tiny golden key.

The goblin snapped his fingers, a second later a goblin appeared next to the teller and Ironsaw spoke. "Of course, Mr. Black. Griphook will take you and your son down to your vault."

"Follow me Mr. Black," Griphook said gruffly.

"I'll wait up here," Remus told them. Harry saw his godfather smirk and knew it was because Remus always got sick when he rode the Gringotts carts.

Griphook held the door open for them. They entered into a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in and the cart took off. At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages but then they began to plunge even deeper. Harry's eyes began to sting from the cold air as it rushed past so he looked down. It was times like these when he regretted having his eyesight fixed, as glasses would've stopped the air from hitting his eyes.

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine and after several minutes they came to a quick stop. They were in the deepest level of Gringotts bank where only the richest families in Britain had vaults. The walls were high and made of stone, stalactites hung from up high and stalagmites rose from the floor. It was cold and murky down there, their only source of light came from the torches that hung on the walls every six feet. He could see a dragon in the distance, it had pale skin and a long spiked tail. It saw them in the cart and the dragon let out a mighty roar. Griphook grabbed a small bag and pulled out several metal instruments, Harry recognized them as clankers.

"Stay here," Griphook said as he got out of the cart.

Griphook slowly walked towards the dragon and began shaking the metal instruments causing a loud ringing noise to echo off the walls. Harry grimaced at the awful sound. The dragon instantly let out a loud roar and a large stream of fire shot from his mouth and lit up the cave. Harry could now see the family crests imprinted on several of the vault doors. Griphook continued to shake the clankers and slowly the dragon retreated away but not before letting out several more ear splitting roars.

Griphook walked back towards them, "Come." They made their way to Sirius' vault, there was a high archway carved into the stone. It appeared to be the width of three normal sized doors, and around ten feet high. The Black family crest was carved into the stone, the letter _B_ was the focal point, a serpent appeared to be slithering through it. A fierce looking wolf stood on either side of the_ B_, the words _Toujours Pur _written underneath. "Key," Griphook held out his hand. The goblin took the key and placed it into a small hole, he then ran a finger over the vault number. Harry knew that it was a security measure, if anyone but a goblin were to touch the numbers they would be sucked into the vault and security would be called. Harry watched as the door began to dissolve, it looked as though it was melting away. Griphook took a step to the side as the last remnants of the door disappeared.

Harry followed Sirius into the vault and looked around. The vault was crammed from floor to ceiling with golden coins and goblets with the Black crest, silver armor, swords with glittering emeralds in the hilts, the skins of strange creatures- some with long spines, others with dropping wings- potions in jeweled flasks. There was a silver bowl filled to the brim with rubies the size of eggs and several other bowls filled with various different stones. Ancient tapestries, paintings and shields lined the walls. Harry grimaced as his eyes landed on a skull still wearing a gold crown. When Sirius' Uncle Alphard died he had left Sirius everything, and as the oldest, Alphard had most of the Black fortune. Sirius had never bothered to go through the vault entirely so dark artifacts still littered it.

"Uncle Sirius, what are we here for?" Harry asked as he watched Sirius search through a chest. Harry knew his godfather had a pouch that allowed him to take money directly from his vault, which is why they rarely came to Gringotts for personal business. When Sirius had told him that morning they were stopping by the bank, Harry had assumed his godfather was just going to drop something off. His assumption appeared to be wrong. Sirius didn't answer so Harry walked closer, he stopped when he saw the initials _LE _painted on the chest Sirius was rummaging through. The letters were peeling, as were the painted on flowers that covered the sides of the chest. He had things of his parents, but he still felt a rush of emotions barrage him every time he saw something new of theirs. "Was that my mums?"

"Yeah," Sirius said as he at last appeared to find what he had been looking for. When he turned around Harry saw that Sirius was holding a camera. A confused expression crossed Harry's face. "This was Lily's," Sirius explained. "In all honesty I had forgotten about it until last night." He rubbed his neck. "James bought this for your mum during our seventh year at Hogwarts. She used is all the time. It captured some great times." A wistful look crossed Sirius' face. "She didn't use it again after seventh year, she just left it in her trunk will all of her old school stuff." He held out out the camera for Harry to take, it was much larger than modern cameras. He could tell it was at least a decade old, but it appeared to be in good shape. He took the camera and gently turned it around, his mums initials were written in cursive on the back. He smiled as he looked up into the hesitant face of his godfather. "I know that you have a nicer one, but I thought you'd like it."

"I don't like it," Harry told him, and Sirius' face fell. "I love it," he said quietly. "Thank you." He meant it. Harry knew it was silly to get emotional over an old object, but all he had of his parents were second hand memories and things that once belonged to them. He was good at keeping his emotions in check, but when it came to his parents his will went out the window.

"I'm glad," Sirius said with relief. "Now, how about we head back up? Remus is probably pacing back and forth in the lobby driving all the goblins insane." Harry laughed as he gently put his mums camera in the pocket of his dark blue robes.

**XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX**

Harry stood on tip-toe trying to see over the crowds of people. He checked his watch, a thin silver band with a round face, a moon and stars twinkled around the edges. It had been an eleventh birthday present from Albus Dumbledore. The headmaster of Hogwarts was a family friend and always came to Harry's birthday parties, surprising the guests with his presence and giving him odd gifts.

"He should be here by now," he murmured as he stretched his neck to see over a group of middle aged witches.

"Harry!" Shouted a voice Harry recognized.

Harry was thankful to see Neville Longbottom walking briskly towards them. Neville was a round faced boy, his brown eyes sparkled with kindness. Behind him came his grandmother and guardian, Lady Augusta Longbottom. She was a stern, no-nonsense woman. She wore a large fur jacket, that must've had cooling charms placed on it. A red handbag swung from her arm, and a hideous vulture hat sat perched precariously atop her head.

"Hey Neville," Harry said before holding out his hand for Augusta. "Good morning, Lady Longbottom."

"Hi, sorry we're late," Neville said out of breath. Neville's red robes were wrinkled, most likely from running, and his short brown hair was in disarray.

"Don't worry about it Nev," Harry told him.

"Good morning," Augusta said as she firmly shook his hand. "Sirius, Remus, you two are looking well."

"Lovely hat," Sirius smirked, eyes twinkling mischievously. Augusta's eyes narrowed and Harry saw Neville's eyes dart to his grandmother, eyes slightly wide. Internally Harry sighed, Neville was always nervous around his grandmother.

"It's a pleasure as always Augusta," Remus said quickly. Augusta turned her sharp eyes to Remus who put on a tight smile.

"Fix your hair Neville," Augusta said, appearing to ignore Sirius' comment. Neville quickly flattened his hair. Harry had known Neville since before he could formulate a sentence. Augusta had always been hard on Neville, and he was always trying to please her. Harry felt bad for his best friend. He knew what it felt like for someone to hold you to high expectations.

Wanting to save Neville from his grandmothers gaze Harry cleared his throat.

"Uncle Sirius, Neville and I should get our uniforms before Madam Malkin's gets too packed," Harry said. Sirius' eyes flickered briefly to Augusta, he looked at Harry knowingly.

"Brilliant idea pup, Remus and I will get your books and meet you at the Apothecary afterwards," Sirius told him as he pulled out Harry's book list. Harry grimaced, the Apothecary meant potions supplies. No matter how hard he tried he was awful at brewing potions. Brewing a good potion required patience, which Harry was capable of having, but it also required good conditions. Being a fire and water elemental, Harry sometimes boiled or cooled the potion he was working on to a point that they were useless. On occasion potions had even exploded much to Harry's frustration. He knew that once he could control his powers it wouldn't be a problem, but he also knew that was a long time off.

"Do you have your money pouch Harry?" Sirius asked as he carelessly stuffed the Hogwarts book list into his pocket.

"Yeah," Harry told him. He never left the manor without his mokeskin pouch. They were very rare because only the owner could take something out of them, and with an undetectable extension charm on it, it could hold everything a person could need. Harry kept everything from money to spare quills in his.

"Hello there," Sirius winked. A confused expression crossed Harry's face until he saw Augusta's disapproving look and heard giggling. He craned his neck to see three very pretty young woman staring at Sirius. Harry rolled his eyes, everywhere Sirius went woman were either drooling over or flirting with him. Sometimes for his looks, other times for his money or status as head of the Black family. Sirius had no problem flirting back, shamelessly.

"Sirius," Remus said warningly. Sirius who had been smiling roguishly at the woman seemed to be pulled from his thoughts.

"What?" Sirius asked innocently. Augusta pursed her lips in disgust as she handed Neville a small black pouch that clinked.

"Buy several extra sets," Augusta told Neville. "I have no doubt you'll need them before years end." Neville blushed and took the pouch, stuffing it into his pocket. Harry resisted the urge to glare at Augusta, he didn't like how she always made his best friend feel bad. Harry gave Neville a kind smile and his blush receded slightly.

Harry and Neville set off down the cobbled street, the smell of fresh baked bread wafting through Harry's nose. As they walked they past a shop with a sign saying _Eeylops Owl Emporium_ — _Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy._ Several boys of about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand — fastest ever —" He glanced at the broom and smiled, he had received a Nimbus 2000 for his eleventh birthday from his godfather. He loved flying, when he was on a broom it felt as though he was leaving all of his problems behind on the ground. And when the wind would rip through his hair he would feel free. In the air he would forget all of the bad things that have happened in his life, and about the bad things that he knew would one day happen. He wasn't stupid, he had been told that Voldemort wasn't dead, that he would one day rise again. He hoped it wasn't for decades, but with someone as powerful and intelligent as Voldemort, anything was possible. And when that time came he knew his days of being able to hop on a broom and feel free would be gone. So he savored every moment he spent flying around, or playing quidditch.

Harry and Neville continued to walk in a comfortable silence, happy to just be in each other company. They passed shops selling used robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens, frog hearts, and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon and wizards chess pieces. Golden gobstones sat shimmering in a game store window, and the occasional owl flew over head.

They reached Madam Malkin's and Neville pulled the door open. It was an average sized shop with two stools in the center. A woman Harry recognized as Madam Malkin stood next to her assistant wearing robes of light purple. Harry inclined his head at the witches, he came to this shop frequently. Madam Malkin made some of the best robes in Britain.

"Hello dears," Madam Malkin greeted them. "Here for your Hogwarts robes?" They answered in the affirmative. "You two can come on up to the stools now." Harry and Neville walked up to two short black stools. Madam Malkin began measuring Harry, while her assistant measured Neville.

"How many sets would you each like?" Madam Malkin asked kindly.

"Six sets please," Harry told her.

"The same please," Neville answered when the witch looked at him inquiringly.

Ten minutes later the two boys stepped down from the stools. After they were done paying they made their way to the door. It opened before the got there and in walked a boy with blonde hair, gray eyes, and a pale pointed face. He was wearing bottle green robes and pointed black shoes. He wore a haughty expression and arrogance oozed off him in waves.

"Harry, Longbottom," Draco Malfoy said coolly when he spotted them.

"Draco," Harry said with an incline of his head.

"Malfoy," Neville said warily. Harry shot Neville a reassuring look before looking back to Draco. Harry had known Draco since he was a small boy. Everyone who attended Ministry events met a lot of people. The Malfoy family had always been big in the charity circuit, according to Sirius it was because they wanted to keep people from remembering that Lucius had once been under suspicion of being a follower of Voldemort. Harry and Draco saw a lot of each other at parties, and against Sirius' wishes were able to hold a conversation without being rude to each other, to the surprise of many. There were those from light families that found it hard to believe the boy who lived could be civil to the child of someone like Lucius Malfoy. Harry and Draco weren't friends but they treated each other with a semblance of respect. Harry was suspicious of Draco, but he didn't want to make any enemies if he didn't have to.

Neville had always been slightly scared of the Malfoy heir, and Draco had always treated him with cool indifference. It was obvious that Draco thought Neville was beneath him, something that irritated Harry. At least he wasn't down right rude to Neville like he was towards some people.

There was an awkward silence in which Draco sneered at Neville. "We'll see you at Hogwarts Draco," Harry said when he saw Neville start to look exceedingly uncomfortable.

"Yes," Draco murmured. "You will." Harry grabbed Neville's arm and dragged him out of the shop.

"Don't let Draco get to you," Harry told Neville. "He's a prat, but he can't do anything to you." Neville looked at Harry like he had three heads. "Don't give me that look Nev, he's eleven."

"You're eleven," Neville pointed out. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Draco hasn't had training since he was little," Harry said seriously.

"That you know of," Neville pointed out. Harry internally sighed as they pushed their way through the crowds.

"Come on," Harry told him in an attempt to change the subject. "Uncle Sirius will call in a search party if we aren't at the Apothecary soon."

* * *

The room was dark, the only light came from the orange flames that flickered ominously. Three men sat in the shadows, a cool breeze floated in through an open window. Lucius Malfoy held a crystal glass to his lips, the amber liquid burned his throat, the taste of honey assaulted his senses. He was a tall man, his head was always held high, chin out. Shoulder length blonde hair framed his long face, high cheek bones, and pointed chin. He radiated both power and arrogance, and his calculating grey eyes held a tinge of cruelty.

"The time has come to dispose of the brat," Lucius said. He ran a long thin finger around the rim of his glass.

"Do you think it wise to act so soon?" Asked the man seated across from him. He was a thin man, with light brown hair, and hazel eyes.

The third man made a derisive sound in the back of his throat. "We've waited long enough, Alexander." The man's large muscles rippled beneath his black cloak. His eyes were so dark they were almost black, his eyebrows large and bushy. His nose stood out prominently, and his front teeth were slightly crooked.

"I beg your pardon Darius," Alexander Nott said. "In case you've spent the past decade oblivious, you will recall why we have yet to act. The boy has been under the protection of Dumbledore." Darius Flint's lips pulled back into a sneer. "The old headmaster is many things, but weak is not one of them. If we had attempted to attack the boy while under his watchful eye-"

"Is Hogwarts not under his watchful eye?" Darius asked condescendingly. "You think it will be easier to kill the boy at Hogwarts, where his every move will be watched by the old fool? We should have done as I said, and killed the boy when he was a mere infant. If we had-"

"You know why that was not practical," Alexander interrupted. "The boy lives at Potter Manor, a place we have no hope to ever enter. When the boy is out, he is always with Black, Lupin, or another one of Dumbledore's lackeys. And you know as well as I that others watch in the shadows. He is considered a hero by the wizarding world," Lucius' free hand twitched in annoyance, "to have attacked him in the open would have been foolish. You're idea of using someone under the imperious curse was too risky, as were your other ideas." Darius looked furious, his eyes burned like black coals.

"Yet you believe we can rid ourselves of him at Hogwarts?" Darius demanded hotly.

"That is enough," Lucius said. Both men turned to look at him, it was obvious they both wanted to speak. "Darius, you know why we waited. We needed time to assess the situation. To wait until the time was right. However, the boy was always surrounded by either too many witnesses or worse, the press. Being not only the famous boy who lived, but also the heir to two Most Noble and Ancient Houses has made finding an opportune moment most inconvenient." He paused for a moment, the crackling of the flames could be heard in the silence. "The fates now appear to be on our side, he will be leaving for Hogwarts in the morning. It is true that Dumbledore will be watching him closely. However, Dumbledore has other duties that he can't neglect. We can wait until a day where the guards of the staff will be down, and then we will strike. If it is made to look like an accident, none will be the wiser."

"Dumbledore will suspect," Alexander said.

"He will suspect, yes," Lucius replied. His finger once more ran along the rim of his glass. "There will be no proof, and without proof nothing can be done."

"We are to presume you already have an idea?" Alexander asked, his eyes sparked with curiosity. His anger at Darius momentarily forgotten.

"I do indeed," Lucius murmured. "It is risky, and more than one innocent life may be lost."

"If it rids us of the boy it doesn't matter," Darius said coldly. "And if the lives are those of mudbloods and blood traitors, all the better."

"What is this plan?" Alexander asked.

"It will happen on Halloween, " Lucius began. A cruel smile crossed his lips, marring his handsome features.

* * *

Professor Sybill Trelawney was sitting in the center of her classroom behind a half-oval desk. Her bangles clanked together while she sipped tea from a chipped pink mug. Two plush brown chairs littered with colorful round pillows sat facing her. All around her at least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little poufs. Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were draped with dark red scarves. It looked as though someones closet had ejected all of its contents. It was stiflingly warm, and the fire which was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large, copper kettle. The shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups. The occasional book was placed precariously on the shelves.

She glanced over the top of her large glasses at the clock on her desk, it was just after six in the morning. She sat her tea down on her cluttered desk and stood up, wrapping her shawl close to her body. Suddenly her body went rigid, her head fell onto her shoulder and her eyes began to roll. Then she spoke in a deep harsh voice:

"The Dark Lord will rise again, greater and more powerful than ever before.

A new dark order will be built on the corpses of their enemies.

Alliances will be formed on the ashes of broken bonds.

A forgotten magic will return to the place where it all began.

A brother will slaughter brother, a friend will murder a friend.

A family will be torn apart, never to be whole again.

A hero will crumble at the feet of a monster.

During the great battle, more than one life will end."

Her head fell forward onto her chest and she made an odd grunting noise. After a moment her head snapped up and she blinked owlishly. Slowly her surroundings came back into focus and she rubbed her head. _'I sense a migraine forming.' _She slowly walked to the fireplace and grabbed a pinch of floo powder. "The Infirmary," she stated as she stepped inside. The Divination Professor disappeared in a puff of green smoke.

* * *

**Reviews will all be much appreciated, and they'll make me all smiley and giddy. Do you know what happens when I'm all smiley and giddy? If you answered 'Shopaholic writes', you were correct! Constructive criticism and happy thoughts are always welcome! If you don't like my story, there's a simple solution: don't read it. If you do like my story, check out my others! Any questions leave them in a review and I will reply! Until next time :)**

**To those who read my Heir of Lord Voldemort story, sorry I haven't updated in a few weeks. I was in France with my family, I read fanfic and was able to reply to some PMs while I was away, but barely. And I didn't write while I was away. I'm going to work on the next chapter tomorrow, it and the next chapter for this should be up soon!**

**AN:**

******1-There is NO Philosopher's Stone in this story. It does exist, but it has no bearing on this story.**

**********DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, that would be the lovely JK Rowling.**


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